“When will it run?”
“Eventually.”
“Terrible business model.”
“It's personal.”
“Still.”
Jake smiled.
They sat.
After a while Claire said:
“My board offered you a job.”
Jake laughed.
“Of course they did.”
“Head of technical field diagnostics.”
“No.”
“Salary—”
“No.”
“You don't know the number.”
“Doesn't matter.”
Claire studied him.
“You really love this place.”
Jake looked around.
Faded sign.
Tools.
Mustang.
Lily’s photographs.
“Yes.”
Claire nodded.
“I thought so.”
“No argument?”
“No.”
“That's disappointing.”
She smiled.
“I have another idea.”
“What?”
“Weston Global funds vocational and engineering education.”
Jake stared.
“You're about to make this complicated.”
“Probably.”
“What idea?”
“Calloway Technical Fellowship.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My name.”
“Okay.”
“Different name.”
“Better.”
“Your garage becomes one of several independent training sites.”
“Students rotate through practical diagnostics.”
“Our engineers visit.”
“Your mechanics teach real-world failure analysis.”
“You stay independent.”
Jake considered.
Claire watched.
“What?”
He looked toward the Mustang.
“Students need to learn old systems too.”
“Done.”
“Hands-on.”
“Obviously.”
“No corporate nonsense.”
She smiled.
“Some corporate nonsense.”
“Minimal.”
“Negotiable.”
Jake extended his hand.
“Maybe.”
Claire took it.
“Maybe is enough.”
Their hands remained joined.
Jake looked at her.
Claire looked back.
He pulled her closer.
She smiled.
“Garage cameras?”
“Broken.”
“Convenient.”
Jake kissed her.
No gala balcony.
No billionaire audience.
Just metal, motor oil, and sunlight.
It suited them better.
Months passed.
Claire learned to stop arriving with assistants.
Jake learned that her schedule was impossible.
They fought.
Sometimes badly.
Jake hated being rescheduled.
Claire hated that he assumed wealth made every problem easier.
He discovered that enormous companies could trap their leaders as effectively as debt trapped everyone else.
Claire discovered that independence could become pride if Jake refused help simply because accepting it frightened him.
Neither was easy.
That helped.
Easy relationships often depend on avoiding truth.
Jake had built his life around the opposite.
One night Claire arrived at the garage after nine.
Jake was closing.
She walked in wearing a black suit.
No makeup.
Hair tied back.
Exhausted.
“Bad day?”
“The board wants me to close two facilities.”
“Why?”
“Margins.”
“People?”